


My Bright is Too Slight (To Hold Back All My Dark)

by JenniferSawyer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, I'm bad at tags, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lance Angst, Langst, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, blood mention, klance but only if you want to read it that way, trigger warning, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferSawyer/pseuds/JenniferSawyer
Summary: He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, or if it even had a proper name, but it wassuffocating him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this was based on a prompt from a tumblr post, found [here](http://fuckeduphufflepuff.tumblr.com/post/157808934562/depressedlance-having-a-major-depressive-episode)  
> Title: Jesus Christ by Brand New

He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, or if it even had a proper name, but it was _suffocating him_. There was something heavy and dull in his chest, crushing his heart and flailing against his lungs and trying to claw its way up his throat. He couldn’t breathe. _He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t–_

Of course, it wasn’t real. There was no water in his lungs, no creature grasping for freedom inside his chest. It was just a feeling, some odd emotion he couldn’t quite place–but knowing that didn’t take it away. If he sometimes had to focus a bit too much on breathing normally, conscious only of how fragile he felt, because no matter how many breaths he takes _there’s just no air he can’t breathe is the castle’s oxygen distributor on the fritz is he dying what’s happening to him he can’t breathe_ –well, that was just something he’d have to deal with. 

He didn’t linger on the number of times he’d come back to himself in a shaky, exhausted heap on the floor. The good thing about being stuck in a humongous castle with only six other people was that it was easy to slip away when you needed to be alone. So far he’d been able to pick himself up and calm down before anyone found him. He was okay. No, _really_. Even though he sometimes blinked and realized he’d been spaced out for the last 20 minutes, not moving, not responding, not thinking or feeling or _anything_ , while everyone had been moving and talking and laughing around him. At least no one asked him about it. At least no one else noticed. That was a good thing, right?

Right?

\---

He soon found that there _was_ a way he could come back to himself before the suffocating feeling took over. It wasn’t a big deal, okay? He needed it, needed to _feel_ something besides the panic rising up his throat and the crushing feeling in his chest. It was just a pinch. Just a scratch. _Just a lot of scratches_. It wasn’t like he was doing any real damage. 

 _It wasn’t like he mattered anyway_. 

But it didn’t last. Before long he couldn’t even feel the pain, couldn’t feel _anything_ but terror and an overwhelming emptiness and suddenly he was staring at his arms. There was so much blood, too much blood to come from something he couldn’t even feel. Too much blood to suddenly _notice_ and not remember the act of putting it there. But there it was. Under his fingernails, crisscrossing his arms, and smeared on his shirt, and he should be freaking out. He should be _freaking out_ , but he was just sitting there. At least he was alone in his room and not somewhere in the castle where one of the others could find him like this. 

_Calm, deep breaths. Get up. Take a shower. Get the first aid kit. Make sure the bandages are tight enough. Put your jacket on. Don’t take the jacket off when you’re out of your room._

He was handling it.

They could still form Voltron. He could still do fine on missions, focus on what he was doing and what was happening. In fact, he never felt better than when he was on a mission or training. And if he found himself still battling the simulator long after the others had gone–even after Keith left, giving Lance an odd sidelong glance on his way out–that was okay. He needed to work more on his hand-to-hand, anyway. 

Wake up. _Try_ to eat. Train with the others. Train alone. _Try_ to eat again. _Try_ to sleep. Repeat. But soon he stopped trying, and he found himself practically living on the training deck. It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t like nobody noticed. It’s not like they didn’t say anything to him. It was just… so easy to brush them off. So easy to smile and give some off-hand remark and pretend that it really _was_ about improving his skills. He just needed the practice. 

—

He was so tired. But if he went to his room he’d have nothing to distract him, and the scratches didn’t help anymore, and he couldn’t _handle it_ right now. So he was still training, but he was so _tired_. And did it really matter? He dodged the next blow, raising his bayard and taking aim. 

 _Did he really matter?_  

Lance hesitated, relaxing his trigger finger and lowering his bayard. _Of course not._ He saw the next blow from a mile away, but honestly it didn’t hurt quite as much as he had hoped it would. Neither did the next one, or the one that flung him against the wall, _or_ the ones he took while sprawled out on the floor. Well, it _was_ only on level six. 

“End training sequence.” He huffed against the floor and pushed himself up, kneeling for a moment before putting his bayard away completely. “Begin training level ten.” He stayed kneeling, watching several training bots drop from the ceiling and advance on him. He didn’t react when the first electrified staff came swinging toward him.

Okay, now _that_ hurt.

But still he didn’t move.


	2. Chapter 2

The bots were unrelenting.  
  
A metallic hand closed around his throat, picking him up off the ground and throwing him against the far wall of the training deck. He barely managed to stand before another shocked him in the stomach with a staff, making Lance double over. Still another caught him with a kick in the side, and then the first bot was back again. It gripped him by one shoulder, pulling him to his feet and throwing a nasty uppercut that sent Lance back to his knees and his helmet flying off his head. The helmet landed on the opposite side of the training deck, but Lance was more focused on the punch to his stomach that left him gasping for air. He didn't have a chance to catch his breath before the next bot was on him.  
  
Thrown to the floor. Two shocks on his back, pushing him down and holding him there for the others the pounce on. Shocked in the side. Kicked in the chest. Picked up and held in the air by his throat. Slammed against the wall. _Punch. Shock. Kick. Choke. Slam. Shock. Kick._  
  
Before long he stopped being able to distinguish between blows.  
  
\---  
  
At some point Lance had passed out. Now he was just on the verge of unconsciousness, and everything felt muted and distant, but he was aware enough to know he was _really hurt_.  
  
He didn't know whether he passed out from pain or blood loss or a blow to the head, but when he did the bots must have powered down and been sucked back into the ceiling. He didn't feel any more metallic hands grabbing at him, didn't hear the heavy steps of the training bots or the crackling of the electrified staffs.  
  
He tried looking around but it was just a blur of color. Blue and white and red, so much _red_ , but no sign of the training bots. And he _should_ have been relieved. Relieved that the training deck had safety precautions built in, that he wasn't still being thrown around the room and beaten into the floor.  
  
Instead he felt something a little too much like disappointment.  
  
He was on his side, slightly curled in on himself with his back against the wall. The only movements in the room were his unsteady breaths and the occassional muscle spasms leftover from the electric shocks. Lance could feel the sticky, warm blood matted in his hair, running into his eyes and down the side of his face. It was pooling a bit where his ear rested against the hard floor. He tried focusing his eyes farther out in front of him. Everything was still blurry, but he could make out the smeared bits of red scattered across the floor of the training deck. Man, Coran was probably gonna be _pissed_. He just had the deck cleaned this morning.  
  
_Coran. And Allura. They always came to the training deck first thing in the morning. They were going to find him like this, find the blood everywhere and ask questions and find out what he'd done and what he's been doing to himself and they'd tell the others and there was that creature trying to crawl up and out of his chest again and he couldn't breathe--_  
  
Lance went to push himself to his knees. His breathing was ragged, and he was sure involuntary whimpers were slipping out between the desperate gasps for air. He was _sure_ of it, could feel the vibrations in his throat, but... he couldn't hear them.  
  
_He couldn't hear anything._  
  
But that didn't matter right now. He had to get up. He had to get up and wash the blood out of his hair, wipe his suit off and clean the deck and pretend like _nothing happened_ , because _he can't let them find him like this_. He managed to make it halfway to his feet before the dizziness kicked in. The room was spinning, his head hurt like a _mother_ , and there was _definitely_ something wrong with his ears, and _oh god he was going to be sick_. He fell to his knees again, trying to focus on slowing his breathing and _not_ throwing up.  
  
_So he definitely couldn't walk right now. But crawling? He could do that. Probably._ He took a slow, shaky breath. _Okay. Focus._  
  
Lance was by the wall opposite the door because _of course he was_. It was so far away, just a vague rectangular shape across the room, but _he had to get out_.  
  
He started crawling, moving slowly and stopping every so often when the dizziness was too much or the sharp, pulsing pain in his head was too intense. It was like the closer he got to the door the more he could feel everything. His headache worsened more and more by the second, until he couldn't lift his head, couldn't even try to open his eyes without blinding pain shooting through his skull. Lance could feel his arms shaking with the effort, could feel himself sway every so often, but he was making progress.  
  
_Deep breaths. Don't pass out. Don't throw up. Deep breaths._  
  
He was almost to the door, maybe six feet away, when his hand slipped on a particularly large blood smear. His arms collapsed under him, his head slammed into the floor, and the last thing he thought before he blacked out was that they were gonna _hate him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes I'm sorry! I promise the next chapter will have someone finding Lance. Hope you like it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finds Lance, but they jump to the wrong conclusion O.O

Coran woke up earlier than usual, almost giddy with excitement. Today the paladins would finally start training on level _five_. It was only the level Alteans would start at after they mastered basic combat skills, but still the paladins had made a _lot_ of progress since their first training session.  


He was so proud.  


When he made it to the kitchen, Hunk was already dressed and making something he called space pamcakes. _Or was it space panshakes?_ Something like that.  


Shiro and Allura showed up before long, followed shortly by Keith. Everyone had settled around the table and started eating when a disgruntled Pidge arrived, but by the time she finished her first plate she was just as excited as the rest of them to start training. The paladins were talking animatedly, asking Coran about the new challenges they would be facing in training. Stronger bots, with more dangerous weapons, and new bonding exercises that aimed to make the team closer than ever. Even Keith was smiling and listening intently.  


Coran was going over some of the new features he added the morning before, something about recording training sessions so they could study their stances better, when Allura cut in.  


"Is Lance _still_ in bed? We're going to start soon."  


Hunk froze, his next bite halfway to his mouth. "Lance has been... skipping a lot of meals lately." He looked around the table, the others mirroring his worry in varying degrees.  


"Well." Allura cleared her throat, glancing at Coran. Her expression flickered between annoyance and concern. "Perhaps someone should fetch him. He'll need to eat if he wants to last the whole training session."  
Keith stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I'll get him. I'm done eating anyway."  


Allura nodded, going back to her food. A few seconds passed in silence before Pidge piped up with another training question for Coran. By the time Keith had put his dishes away and left the room the team was already engrossed in the discussion again.  


He _was_ done eating. And, okay, maybe he wanted to check on Lance. Maybe he wanted to ask about how dull his eyes had been the night before when Keith left the training deck. Maybe he was worried.  


_But no one needed to know that._  


It was a short walk to Lance's room. Too short to come up with what he was actually going to say when he got there, because he was already knocking on the door and he had no idea. He shifted his weight back and forth a few times, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Several seconds passed and he knocked again, calling Lance's name, but still there was no answer. He was probably asleep, his headphones blocking out Keith's voice along with the rest of the universe.  


Keith steeled himself and opened the door, hoping that Lance was decent, and hesitantly poked his head into the room. The bed was empty.  


"Lance? Are you in here?" He crossed over to the bathroom and looked around inside, his eyes lingering on a large first aid kit sitting by the sink. _He must've already gone to train while they were eating._ Maybe Keith could catch him before the others showed up.  


He had made it to the hallway when the castle alarm started blaring, and suddenly Allura was yelling frantically over the speaker in his helmet.  


"Keith, meet us in the med bay! And be wary--there's an enemy in the castle!"  


" _What?_ " Keith activated his shield and bayard, sprinting toward the med bay. "What about Lance? I couldn't find him!" His eyes scanned the hall quickly as he turned the first corner.  


"We have him," Pidge said after a beat of silence. Something was wrong. Her voice was too unsteady, too small. "He's hurt."  


\---  


It had been three hours.  


Everyone was frustrated, because it didn't make _any sense_. The castle's scans detected no other life forms anywhere on the ship. They had split up, Hunk and Coran staying by the healing pods to guard Lance and the others patrolling the castle. There were no signs of a breach, no signs of anything corrupted or damaged. There was nothing to indicate that an enemy had been on the ship at all.  


_Then what happened to Lance?_  


The others had filled Keith in on what happened when they went to the training deck. Shiro was the first through the doors. He was the first to see the blood scattered across the deck, to notice Lance collapsed on the floor, one arm reaching out in front of him and a trail of smeared blood behind him. Shiro had gone to Lance before the others could comprehend what was happening, shaking him and yelling for him to _wake up please Lance wake up_. Lance's eyes had fluttered, and he let out a string of mumbled Spanish, but no one could understand what he was saying. They tried to ask what happened, ask who hurt him, but they didn't get any answers. It was like he couldn't even hear them. He just kept repeating himself in Spanish, his voice cracking every few words, eventually petering off into whimpers when Shiro picked him up and started carrying him to the med bay.  


Now they were all crowded around the healing pod. Allura had declared that the only thing they could do was wait for Lance to heal and explain what happened, and the more time that passed the more somber everyone became.  


Pidge and Allura were discussing the castle scans while Pidge tapped rapidly on her laptop. She had connected it to the castle's system, and she was triple checking the security programs, but _every time_ everything came back normal.  


Hunk seemed to have cried himself out. Now he was just pacing, glancing at Lance's still form every few seconds. Coran and Shiro had gone to clean up the training room about an hour in, and they were still gone.  


Keith stood against the wall, arms crossed, and he was getting more frustrated by the minute. It just didn't make any _sense_. How could someone get in, attack Lance, and get out without being detected? Why would they _just_ attack Lance and then leave? Nothing was missing, the lions hadn't been touched, and no one else had seen another person on the ship. And even then, why would they attack Lance but not kill him? He still had his bayard when they found him, but it hadn't been activated. Did they catch him off guard after he finished training last night?  


_Lance was training last night._  


Keith's eyes widened when he remembered what Coran had been talking about at breakfast. He said that yesterday morning he had set the training sessions to automatically record. Keith pushed himself off the wall and made a beeline for the door.  


They didn't need to wait for Lance to wake up. Keith was going to see what happened for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay other characters!
> 
> Notice that the paladins are just starting level five as a team, which is for people who've mastered basic combat skills, while Lance was successfully training on level six by himself, and he let the bots at level 10 attack him without fighting back. Just saying... :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope it's okay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith, Coran, and Shiro find out what happened, but it's not what they expected.

Coran and Shiro had just been finishing up when Keith made it to the training deck, and he had to admit he was relieved. The scattered droplets of blood, dotting the floor and even on the walls in some places... it had been unsettling to say the least. They both looked pale, faces drawn, and were putting the cleaning supplies in a large bucket. Keith's eyes glanced over the parts of the floor where the bloody trail had marked Lance's struggle across the room. 

Keith had never hated the color red more. 

"Coran--this morning. Didn't you say you set the training sessions to record yesterday?" 

Coran perked up a bit, twirling one end of his moustache with a gloved finger. "Yes I did! It will make it much easier to study your movements in training, and I-" 

Keith cut him off by grabbing him by the arm and dragging him toward the observation room, ignoring Coran's confused rambling. Shiro trailed behind, catching on just before they reached the door. 

"Lance was training last night!" Shiro jogged forward, eyes widening as Keith nodded. "You think the recording caught the attack." 

Keith didn't answer, his mouth in a grim line, but it had been more of a statement than a question. They had entered the observation room, and Coran was talking enough for the both of them, anyway, going on about how brilliant an idea it was and tapping away at the controls. A log of sessions popped up on the screen, and when Coran selected one a video opened. 

It was Lance, and Keith felt a bit of triumph at being right about the recording. They would have to watch it through from the beginning to see when the attacker came in. _But why was Lance kneeling?_ Coran tapped again and the video started. 

Several training bots dropped down in front of Lance and a jumble of thoughts flew through Keith's head. It was... a lot of bots. And were those staffs _electrified_? Oh my god they were. He could actually see the electricity bouncing along the ends, could even hear them crackling on the video. And what the hell was Lance doing? He was still on his knees, bayard unactivated, just staring. Maybe he was testing his reaction time? 

There went the first bot, swinging his staff right at Lance's head, and he wasn't _moving_. The blow threw Lance to the side, his head smacking against the floor. Another bot picked him up by the throat, and Keith could hear him gasp for air, could see his feet lift off the ground and his hands clutch at the one clamped around his throat, but Lance wasn't pulling out his bayard or telling the deck to end the session or _anything_. 

Keith watched Lance get tossed across the room, heard the strangled cry that came out when another bot sent a staff into Lance's stomach and Coran was saying something but _Lance wasn't fighting back he was just taking it why wasn't he even trying why_ \-- 

Lance was getting the absolute _shit_ beat out of him. His helmet had been knocked off, and several blows to the head left him with blood flowing down his face. More hits. More blood. It was dripping on the floor, smearing on the walls where the bots threw him, seeping through some of the cracks in his armor, but still he didn't fight back. 

Keith felt sick. 

Lance was curled up on the floor, body flinching and twisting away from kicks and shocks. Keith saw the beginnings of a blood puddle gathering under Lance's head when his body went limp. The bots backed off, their lights blinking blue as a robotic voice rang out. 

"Safety precaution initiated. Training sequence terminated." The bots were retrieved back into the ceiling and the video ended, frozen on an image of Lance curled up against the wall. 

There was an emotion that Keith couldn't identify burning in his stomach. It was overwhelming him, almost devastating in its intensity, and he was vaguely aware that he was shaking. There was never an enemy in the castle. Lance did this to himself. 

_Lance did this to himself._

Keith couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot, staring at the image of Lance on the screen, and _he couldn't think straight, couldn't stop shaking, oh my god he couldn't believe_ \-- 

Lance did this to himself. 

Coran and Shiro were talking, and Keith tried to focus on what they were saying. It took an insane amount of effort, but he pried his eyes away from the screen to look at them. If possible, Shiro looked even paler than before. Coran looked absolutely heartbroken, his eyes shining and brow creased, and he was struggling to get his words out. 

"-don't understand. I know Lance has been... a bit down lately. But to do this?" 

Shiro ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. "I should've seen this coming. I should've done something, talked to him." 

Shiro was right, except it was _Keith_ who should've done something. He _knew_ something was off last night. Lance's eyes had been so dull, so hard, and if he wasn't such a coward he would've asked him what was wrong. The other two were still talking, but they weren't really saying anything. There was nothing to say. Not to each other, at least. Looking back now, there had been so many signs. So many hints that something was wrong. _What other signs had he missed?_

Suddenly Keith was running, and he knew Shiro and Coran were calling after him but he couldn't hear the words, only his frantic breathing and his boots thudding against the floor and an endless loop of _no no no no no_ in his head. Just being on the training deck made him feel nauseous, and then he was in the hallway, and everything was a blur and Keith's thoughts were splintering. He made it to Lance's room. Lance's bathroom. The first aid kit, by the sink. It was huge, but looking at it now Keith could see how diminished the supplies inside were. It was running low on gauze, medical tape, rubbing alcohol, _everything_. The trash can, hidden under the counter, had used bandages inside, and there was more blood and he was going to be _sick_. 

Keith sank to his knees by the toilet, still shaking, and closed his eyes. This wasn't a one time thing. Lance had been hurting himself on purpose, for who knows how long, and _nobody noticed_. Or, if they did, the others hadn't said anything. 

The others. They didn't know. Allura and Pidge and _Hunk. Oh my god, Hunk didn't know what Lance had done_. 

It took Keith several minutes to calm down enough to stand, but then he was staggering out of the bathroom and heading for the med bay. It felt like no time had passed at all when he made it. Shiro wasn't there yet, but he could see Coran and Allura talking quietly on the far side of the room. Allura was holding a hand over her mouth, a shocked expression on her face. Coran must've been telling her what they saw on the video. Hunk and Pidge stood near Lance's pod, both of them glancing curiously at Coran and Allura before noticing Keith in the doorway. 

"Hey Keith," Hunk started, raising one eyebrow. "You okay, buddy? You look really pale." 

_They didn't know._

Before Keith could think of what to say, how to phrase the statement of _Lance did this he did it to himself he hurt himself on purpose_ there was a hiss of air and all eyes darted to the healing pod. 

Lance was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahem B) so I've been neglecting my responsibilities to write this chapter. And now I really have to get my mountains of homework done so I probably won't be able to put the next one up until after Thursday
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys like it! And thank you so much to everyone who has given kudos and commented. I really appreciate it, and they're great motivators! ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance comes out of the pod, Keith is an idiot, and the others in the med bay find out the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first part is Keith's pov and then it switches to Lance at the end. ;-; had a lot of trouble with this chapter but hopefully it's not too disappointing. Hopefully more is coming soon! Thanks for reading, giving kudos, and commenting! They're really good motivators :)

Keith heard a hiss of air and something like a groan, or maybe a whimper, and then Lance was stumbling into Hunk’s arms. Blood was still caked in his hair, dried streaks running down his face, his neck, his chest plate. Hunk was smothering him in a hug, babbling and blinking away tears. Coran and Allura walked over, both of them looking distraught, and Pidge nudged Hunk gently. 

“Come on, Hunk, let him breathe.” 

Hunk took a shuddering breath and held Lance at arms length, smiling wetly. He was talking slower now, asking what happened, who hurt him, is he okay, _what happened_ , but Lance was silent. His eyes searched the room, face blank as he took in everyone’s expressions. He looked… confused. 

“Lance?” Allura stepped forward, voice hesitant and brow creased. “Do you remember what happened?” Keith could hear the question underneath. _Do you remember what you did?_

Lance still wasn’t answering. 

Everything was ricocheting around in Keith’s chest, and he couldn’t think straight. Relief, guilt, sadness, fear, worry, frustration—before he could pin one down another would take over. Lance was alive, he was awake and okay _but not really_ but he wasn’t answering their questions, _why wasn’t he talking to them,_ and suddenly Keith was crossing the room. He pulled Lance away from Hunk, gripping him tightly by the shoulders and holding his gaze steadily. 

He wanted to hug him. He wanted to cry. He wanted to apologize and say he would help, do whatever Lance needed to be okay again, ask why Lance hadn’t come to any of them for help, hadn’t come to _him_ for help, _why, Lance, why why why please_ —but he didn’t say any of that. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

The others turned to Keith, shocked by his outburst. They were yelling at him, half of them wondering what exactly Keith’s problem was— _they didn’t know_ —and the other half saying that this wasn’t the way to handle this— _they’re right, what was he doing?_ He needed to explain, tell Coran and Allura that he didn’t know how to handle this, tell Hunk and Pidge what they saw on the video, tell Lance he was sorry, but before he could say anything there was a sharp inhale and they all turned to look back at Lance. Keith saw a spark of recognition cross Lance’s face, eyes impossibly wide, before full-blown terror took its place. Lance paled, wrenching out of Keith’s grasp and staggering backward. 

Regret. It was intense and overwhelming and he was choking on it, an underlying current of desperate frustration with himself smothering everything else he was feeling. God, he just wanted to start over, make it better, but Lance wasn’t even looking at him anymore. 

“I-I… I can’t…” Lance’s voice was small. Quiet. One hand came up to touch his left ear, the other covering his mouth, and his eyes snapped shut. Hunk stepped toward him, equal parts worried and confused. 

“Lance? Buddy? What’s wrong?” Hunk reached out to rest a hand on Lance’s shoulder, but he pulled back immediately when Lance flinched away, eyes flying open again. Everyone was frozen for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, and then Lance was running out of the room. 

Keith went to follow, but a gloved hand held him back. _Coran_. 

“Wait, Keith! You’ll just make it worse.” 

“You don’t understand!” Keith rounded on the others, hands coming up to grasp at the sides of his head. “What if he does something?” He started pacing, feeling tears prick at his eyes, but Coran was right. _He just made things worse_. 

“Um, I think I’m missing something here,” Pidge said. 

Hunk crossed his arms and nodded emphatically. “Mm-hmm, yep, agreed.” His voice was shaking. 

They were looking at Keith expectantly, but how could he tell them? Lance was Hunk’s _best friend_ , and Pidge had been teammates with them at the Garrison _long_ before Lance was even a blip on Keith’s radar. He had to tell them, though, _they needed to know_ , but then Coran was speaking. He spoke softly, and Keith felt somehow that the tenderness in his voice just made it all that much worse. 

Coran explained how Keith had known to check the training log, how the video had shown Lance setting the sequence to a dangerous level without fighting back, how there was never an intruder in the castle at all, and Keith heard it but he wasn’t listening. His emotions were still fluttering around in his chest, and _Coran didn’t know about what Keith saw in Lance’s room_. He was going crazy, and as soon as there was a beat of silence he found that he couldn’t stay silent anymore. 

“He’s been hurting himself.” His voice cracked, and the others were staring at him, but he couldn’t look at any of them in the eyes. Coran and Allura were solemn, serious. Hunk was crying. Keith had never seen him look so vulnerable, so distraught, and Pidge had never looked smaller. “I found old bandages in his room, and I don’t know how long he’s been doing it but it’s not something that started today.” 

Silence. Nobody knew what to say. 

\--- 

Lance felt warm arms around him and breathed in a comforting smell. _Hunk_. He was wondering exactly how long the hug was going to last when Hunk stepped back and took a breath. He was talking to Lance, seemed to be upset and happy at the same time, but Lance couldn’t understand what he was saying. It sounded muffled, far away, and he couldn’t remember why he was in the med bay, and _what was wrong with his hearing_? Everyone else was there, too, except Shiro, and they looked… worried? What happened? 

Allura was talking to him now, but he didn’t quite catch it. He tried thinking back, tried to remember the last thing he’d been doing before he came to. _He was training_ … but then Keith was grabbing him by the shoulders, face hard and eyes blazing. He was yelling at him, and Lance had to really focus to make it out. 

“-ell is wrong with you?!” 

_He was training, and he set the bots to level ten, and he let them… oh god_ . The others had been talking to Keith, but they all turned to stare at him when he gasped and jerked away. Their eyes were boring into him, and he couldn’t stop the panic from rising up his throat. They hated him, _they hated him, he couldn’t hear anything, Shiro wasn’t there, he probably couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Lance and god he messed up what was he supposed to do now Keith was so mad at him and he couldn’t hear anything_ — 

He couldn’t hear. 

“I-I… I can’t…” God, he couldn’t even hear himself. His hand shot up to touch his ear— _stupid, stupid, what was that supposed to do, magically make him hear everything again?_ —and he covered his mouth to stop any whimpers from slipping out. Lance closed his eyes, unable to take the looks they were giving him, but then there was a hand brushing his shoulder and he recoiled, opening his eyes again. Hunk. His best friend, _oh god_ , he looked so hurt, and _it was Lance’s fault_ _just like everything else and they all hated him and he had to get out of here—_

Lance bolted for the door. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is panicking. Until he isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so real quick TRIGGER WARNING for a fairly detailed instance of self-harm and what I hope you can tell is a very bad panic attack.  
> Oh my god, the langst. It's everywhere. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm SO sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I've been swamped with work and school and life and it's hard to find time to write, but here we are! I hope you guys like it! Let me know <3 and thank you so much for reading, giving kudos, and commenting! The comments bring me life and give me SO much motivation, so thank you! 
> 
> Also, of course it's all un-beta'd and I'm constantly exhausted so if you find any obvious typos please let me know so I can fix them!

It was so quiet.

He knew there were plenty of sounds around him. The hum of the ship. His strained breaths. His boots against the floor. He knew there was sound, but he couldn't hear any of it. He was panicking, and he couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop panicking, couldn't hear anything, couldn't stop thinking, couldn't--his thoughts just wouldn't slow down.

 _He screwed up. Oh god, he really screwed up. Keith was furious, they probably all were, and they had a right to be, god, it had been so stupid, so stupid and selfish and pointless and they all hated him now, they hated him and he hated himself and they knew how pathetic he was and he messed up his hearing, really messed it up, and now he was even more useless than before. Hunk had looked so upset and it was Lance's fault, just like everything was always his fault, and Shiro couldn't even stand to be in the same room with him, god, Shiro_ \--

Lance turned a corner and hit a solid mass, falling hard on his butt. Everything froze for a moment as he looked up, and he was hoping it wouldn't be him, please, _please don't let it be him_...

 _Of course_.

"Sh-Shiro, I... I'm sorry, I'm so s-s-- I can't, please, I didn't mean--" Lance scrambled to his feet, backing away and trying to find the right words _but there were no right words_ and Shiro looked so _disappointed_ and Lance was babbling, hyperventilating, making a complete _idiot_ of himself, and Shiro was there to see it. Lance tried to focus, tried to slow his breathing, his thoughts, his heart.

Shiro was holding his hands out. He was trying to tell Lance something, but Lance shook his head. Shiro's voice was just a murmur, just barely something that _wasn't silence_ , and how was he supposed to be a paladin of Voltron if he couldn't even understand what anyone said without them screaming it right in his face? He had already been the weak link before he messed everything up. Why would they put up with him now? _Worthless, stupid, selfish, burden, useless_...

Lance was still babbling apologies, and he could feel his voice wavering, cracking, splintering between frantic breaths, but he needed to tell Shiro. Shiro was going to think Lance was ignoring whatever he was trying to say, and they were all going to find out eventually, anyway, and he had to _explain_ \--

He bit his lip, trying to blink away the tears, and _when had he started crying?_ Something was clawing up his chest again and squeezing his throat. He still couldn't breathe. "I'm so sorry, I can't h-hear you, I'm sorry I didn't mean to--I wasn't thinking, I know it was s-selfish and stupid, _god, Shiro, I'm sorry_ \--" He couldn't do anything right. He couldn't hear, he couldn't talk, he couldn't breathe, and _he couldn't just stand there with Shiro while he was having a freaking breakdown._

For the second time since he woke up Lance ran.

He wasn't sure if Shiro had followed, but when Lance made it to his room he locked the door behind him. He couldn't handle this, it was too _freaking_ much.

What was he supposed to do now?

He tried to just breathe, but his lungs were stuttering and his heart was in his throat. He ripped his armor off with unsteady hands, but the lack of a chest plate didn't relieve any of the pressure. God, he just wanted to feel something else, to scratch or punch or bite until that pain drowned out the tightness in his chest. But that's what got him into this mess in the first place. Then again everyone knew what he'd done on the training deck, so did it really matter if they found out he did this? They already knew he was pathetic, worthless, weak, and he couldn't _breathe, and god he felt like he was going to die if this kept going, and if everyone knows then why try to hide it anymore? What's the point, what's the point, what's the POINT_ \--

Lance was shaking, eyes flying around his room and coming to a rest on his belt. He grabbed it, holding it with his right hand a few inches from the buckle, and held up his left arm. He shouldn't. _He shouldn't, he shouldn't, he shouldn't_ , but then he was swinging it and leaving welts on his arm from the buckle.

It hurt. It hurt, but he could breathe. He could think. _And he deserved it, anyway_. When his mind started to clear he stopped, focusing on the throb of his left forearm and holding it close to his chest. It took a few minutes for his breathing to calm all the way, but by the time ten minutes had passed he just felt drained.

The belt slipped from his hand and he padded over to the bathroom. _Ignore the mirror. Turn the shower on. Breathe. Clean up. Wash the blood off. Turn the shower off. Breathe. Ignore the mirror. Get dressed. Long sleeves. It's okay._

Lance ended up sitting on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest and back against the wall. He was thinking through everything that had happened, but all the fear and worry and shock were gone. Now he just felt... empty.

They knew what he'd done. Okay. He couldn't really hear anything at a normal volume, and it was his fault. Okay. He was a worthless burden to the team. Okay. There was just no point to anything anymore.

And now he didn't have to pretend.

\---

Lance didn't go to lunch. He wasn't hungry, he had nothing to say, and whatever they might say to him would go unheard. So he sat on his bed, cradling his arm between his knees and his chest, and stared at the wall.

All this time trying to hide it. All of the effort he had put into brushing off the others with forced smiles and weak excuses, and now none of it mattered. The worse part was that they hadn't even figured it out on their own. It had been because of a stupid mistake, one lapse of judgement that led him to expose how messed up he was, and now they were all probably discussing what to do with him.

He was just wondering how long they would leave him be when his door flew open and Hunk rushed over to him. He cradled Lance's face, touched his shoulders, and then he was crushing Lance in a hug. Lance let out a whimper when the hug squeezed his arm between his chest and knees, and Hunk drew back, looking him over with wide eyes. He looked scared. Sad.

Lance couldn't look him in the eyes.

Hunk pulled away from Lance, holding up a hand as if to say _hold on_ , and went into the hallway for a moment. He came back with a bowl of food goo and something that looked like a tablet. Hunk sat cross-legged in front of Lance, offering the bowl, and despite his lack of appetite Lance couldn't find it in him to refuse it. Hunk was fiddling with the tablet, index finger swiping across the surface, and when he turned it to face Lance it showed his handwriting. _Or fingerwriting?_

'I'm sorry.'

Wait, what? Hunk shouldn't be sorry, Lance was the one who screwed everything up. Lance was the burden, the useless, selfish idiot here, and _wow okay so add guilt to the empty feeling in his chest_. He wanted to explain that it wasn't Hunk's fault, it was only Lance's fault, but when he opened his mouth he couldn't make himself say anything. He was so drained, so numb, and when Lance shook his head he couldn't find the energy to do much else. He set the bowl on the bed, most of the goo uneaten, and curled in on himself more.

He still couldn't look at Hunk, but he could feel his eyes on him, could feel something like disappointment radiating off of him, and Lance didn't know what to do. He didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't know, and he was so tired and there was no point to anything. He loved Hunk. He loved him and he never wanted to hurt him but still he found himself ignoring Hunk's gestures, his written messages, his pleading eyes. Lance just sat, and cradled his arms against his chest, and rested his forehead against his knees, and stared at nothing.

It didn't matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Hunk had to pick the lock/use his engineering skills to get in, and he thought maybe Lance had done something horrible to himself (which, I mean, he did, but Hunk doesn't know that), and that's why he's so scared and looks Lance over when he gets in the room. And why he left the food and tablet in the hallway. 
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if this is apparent, but the run-on sentences and stuff are supposed to kind of mirror Lance's state of mind/thought processes, so I'm sorry if that wasn't clear. I don't know. Anyway. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody knows what to do.

Nobody knew what to do.

Hunk tried. He tried so hard, writing and gesturing and doing everything he could, but Lance wasn’t responding. It was scary to see how much Lance had drawn into himself. He stared at nothing, said nothing, ate nothing—Hunk was really starting to panic. Hours passed with no change and Hunk had to step out, had to get away from the blank stares and oppressive silence. It was too much, seeing Lance like that. Hunk found himself in the kitchen, discouraged and scared that Lance would never come back.

Coran ended up spending the day at Lance’s side in place of Hunk. Lance was on his bed, facing the wall, and Coran sat with him, talking and talking and talking just to fill the silence. He spoke of Altea—King Alfor and Allura and the loved ones he missed so much it hurt—and then of the paladins. Their bravery. Their sacrifice. How much they’ve grown and how proud he was and how much they meant to him.

How much Lance meant to him.

Coran talked himself hoarse, but Lance didn’t even acknowledge that he was there. Coran knew it was too little too late, and Lance couldn’t hear what he was saying, anyway, but he couldn’t handle the silence. So he talked.

Shiro and Allura spent the day together. They talked about everything that had happened, how they could have missed Lance’s deteriorating state of mind, what they could possibly do to help him, but they just didn’t know. Shiro had his own experiences with trauma and mental illness, but Lance wasn’t Shiro. He probably didn’t need the same things Shiro needed, didn’t react to things in the same way, and how much did they know about Lance, anyway? They didn’t know what he’d been through. They didn’t know what was going through his mind or what he was feeling or why he’d been doing what he’d been doing.

Shiro felt useless. What kind of a leader was he? He couldn’t help anyone, didn’t even know where to start. Allura felt the same way, unsure of how to approach anyone and immeasurably sad. Shiro and Allura had just agreed to give Lance some space and let him determine the pace. They visited him a few times, asking Hunk and then Coran if there was any change, but after dinner there was still no indication that Lance was going to speak to any of them. They were terrified of making it worse, terrified of making Lance retreat even further. So they waited.

Pidge stayed in her room most of the day. She only came out once, but when she did she ignored the others. If she passed someone in the hallway she didn't acknowledge them. If they tried talking to her she kept walking, eyes averted and mouth set in a grim line. She found Hunk in the kitchen with his head in his hands. They spoke quietly for a few moments before disappearing into her room, and neither of them were seen for the rest of the day.

Keith spent a lot of time doing absolutely _nothing_ , and he was sick of it. Normally when he felt restless or frustrated he would train, but he still couldn’t bring himself to use the training deck. He had tried once, but he just couldn’t get the video out of his head. Lance lying against the wall, Lance’s blood all over the deck, Lance crying out in pain—he couldn’t be in there without feeling sick. After that he avoided the training deck, and he wasn’t the only one.

Instead, Keith explored the castle. He walked aimlessly, trying to think of anything but Lance and failing. When he came across the others he noticed their tension, and conversations ranged from one-sided to forced. By the end of the day he resigned himself to sitting outside Lance's door, listening to Coran drone on and on about anything and everything. Minutes bled into hours and then it was the next day and nothing had changed. He was tired of this. He was tired of everyone tiptoeing around the problem, and while everyone worried about what to do Lance was sinking deeper into himself. Keith understood what everyone was thinking. He didn't want to make it worse, either, but... enough was enough. Something had to be done.

He stood in Lance’s doorway and stared. Keith took in his still form, took in Coran sitting on the bed and saying things that Lance couldn’t hear, and then there were tears. Tears of frustration and sorrow and desperation, and he was crossing the room. Keith leaned over Lance and pulled him by the shoulder to face him. Coran had jumped out of the way, quiet for the first time that day.

Keith studied Lance’s face. His eyes were dull, only making contact with Keith's for a moment before flitting away. The hopelessness of his expression was enough to make Keith pause, but then he was pulling Lance to his feet. Lance didn’t resist, but Keith wasn’t taking that as a good thing. He just stood, shoulders slumped and face blank. Keith had to brush his own tears away, and he searched Lance's face for a moment. He didn't know what he was looking for, exactly, but after a few seconds he was moving around the room and gathering clean clothes in his arms. He went into the bathroom and carefully searched the drawers and cabinets.

_Nothing sharp. Nothing pointy. Okay._

Keith came out and guided Lance into the bathroom, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look in his eyes. He pointed at the shower and waited for Lance to nod before closing the door behind him. When he heard the shower come on he turned to Coran and spoke.

“Make sure he eats. Feed him yourself if you have to.” It came out sharper than he had intended, but Coran just mumbled an agreement and then he was off.

If nobody else was going to step up, then he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still drowning in work but I'm trying to find time to write! This chapter feels a lot like a filler chapter, so sorry about that. Future chapters will be better, I hope!
> 
> And everyone knows that Lance can't hear because Shiro told them after Lance ran into him in the hallway. Just wanted to make that clear :) 
> 
> Also this really isn't a slash fic, though you could absolutely read it that way if you want! The pairings or lack of pairings just aren't the focus of the fic, but feel free to read it however you like! 
> 
> Thanks so much for continuing to read, give kudos, and comment! As always, they're great motivators! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took so long. I've been absolutely swamped with work and homework and life, but I finally found some time to write (yay!), but I was also a bit hesitant to post this chapter because... well, you'll see. 
> 
> Please be careful if you're triggered by certain things, and see the notes at the end for details on the trigger warning. I put it at the end because I didn't want to spoil it for people who want to be surprised when they read, but please put your safety and mental health first!

The water felt nice against Lance's skin, but that aching, empty feeling still swirled in his chest. He was so tired. Everything took way more effort than it should have, and though he had done little else beside lie in bed all day he didn't have the energy to really clean himself. After about ten minutes Lance turned the water off and stepped out of the shower.

He wished the floor would swallow him up. He wished he could just sleep, wished everything would just stop. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor and do absolutely nothing, but instead he grabbed a towel and slowly dried himself off. Thoughts were still whispering through his head-- _worthless, stupid, selfish, useless, annoying, burden_ \--but the empty feeling in his chest made everything seem... distant. Disconnected.

Lance was weighed down by layers and layers of apathy, and everything just seemed so... pointless. Who cared? Who gave a single solitary _fuck_ , honestly? They didn't need him. _Nobody_ needed him, and there was a reason for that. He was worthless.

It was just a fact, okay? It wasn't about feeling sorry for himself or wanting recognition from the team or anything--it was a fact. He was worthless. He was a complete waste of space, a dead weight, and, _god, he was tired of this_. He was tired of pretending like everything was going to be fine, tired of dragging the team down, tired of _waking up_ \--

He was just tired.

The team would never admit it to his face, but he was replaceable. Completely and utterly replaceable, and if they had a new blue paladin he was _sure_ everyone would be better off. Lance was just a placeholder, just someone who was in the right place at the right time with a quintessence that just so happened to match Blue's. He didn't really deserve to be here.

He was no hero. He was no sharpshooter. He was no paladin.

He was nothing.

\---

When Keith returned to Coran with a bowl of food goo, Lance had still been in the shower. If he was being competely honest with himself, he was glad. Before, when Keith had pulled him out of bed, it was like Lance wasn't even _there_. His eyes were open, but he didn't see. He was breathing, but there was no life in him. He was there, but he really _wasn't_ , and Keith _hated_ seeing Lance like that.

Keith spoke briefly with Coran, making a conscious effort to be softer than before, then headed to the central control room and sent out a message for the others to join him. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed while he waited, anxiously tapping his fingers against his arm. Keith tried to come up with a reasonable and supportive way to ask just what the _hell_ they were going to do about Lance, but he wasn't successful.

It only took a few minutes for everyone to arrive.

"Look, guys, I can't sit back and do nothing when Lance is--he's--we have to do something!"

"Keith." Shiro stepped forward and rested a hand on Keith's shoulder. He held Keith's gaze steadily and took a breath. "We all want to help, but we don't want to push too hard too soon, you know? This is... a tough situation."

Keith tore his eyes away and bit the inside of his cheek. He _knew that_ , but they couldn't keep doing what they were doing. "He's not eating. He's not talking, or even trying to communicate, and he's just been lying on his bed, not doing _anything_ , Shiro, it's like he's not even _there_ anymore--"

"I know, Keith. I just wanted to give him--and us--a little more time before we did anything. He's probably got a lot of things to think about and a lot of feelings to process, and I figured we would let him have that opportunity before we tried talking to him. You're right, though. We have to do something." Shiro squeezed Keith's shoulder before crossing his arms and turning to face the rest of the group. "But we need to be careful about how we handle this. We don't want to assume that we know what he needs. We also all need to be on the same page, so I think we should talk about this as a team before we do anything."

There was a moment of quiet before Hunk spoke up. "Well, Lance is going to need to understand us or this whole thing is going to be a lot harder." Shiro nodded for him to go on. "Pidge and I have been working on something. We think it's almost ready to test."

\---

When Lance went back into his room Coran was waiting with a bowl of goo and a hopeful expression. Lance took the bowl and sat heavily at the edge of the bed, staring blankly and trying to summon the energy to lift the spoon to his mouth. What was the point, though? He just wasn't hungry. Lance felt Coran's gloved hand rest firmly on his shoulder, and he could see Coran talking to him in his peripheral vision. He didn't know exactly what was being said, and he still couldn't bring himself to look at Coran-- _he hates me, I'm just a burden on the team, what does he think about me now that he knows, god, I'm such a worthless piece of_ \--but he was pretty sure he managed to get the gist.

_Please, Lance. Just try to eat. For me._

He tried. He really, really tried, and _god he was so sorry_ but he could only choke down a few bites. A twinge of guilt ran through his chest when he felt Coran's hand lift off his shoulder, when he noticed the way Coran's hands shook as he wiped his eyes, and then Coran was gone and Lance was alone.

He ruined everything. He made everyone upset, made everyone's lives worse. What was the point of this? Why was he still doing this to everyone? He didn't want this. He didn't want to feel this, didn't want to _be_ this. Everything was so messed up, and it was _his fault_. The guilt was back, but this time it was more than a twinge. Everything that had felt so muted before was suddenly crashing over him. Sadness and anger and shame and frustration and it was swallowing him up and everything was so pointless and he just wanted it to _stop_ , he just wanted everything to _stop_ , and _goddammit_ he couldn't breathe again.

Lance saw more than felt the bowl slip from his fingers, and then he was standing. Pacing. Running his hands through his hair, with hot tears streaking his face, and his eyes landed on his bayard and then he stilled.

He was alone, but who knew for how long? When would he get another chance? _He just wanted it to stop and he didn't matter anyway and everyone would be better off without him and nobody needed him and he just made everyone miserable and he was so tired of feeling like this and his rifle had never felt so light_ \--

The muzzle was cool against his temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts and suicide attempt (I just updated the tags on the fic, too.)
> 
> I am so sorry, you guys... Still, I hope you like the chapter! Unfortunately, we'll have to wait for the next one to see more on what happens! 
> 
> As usual, this is un-beta'd, so if you see any typos please let me know so I can fix them! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, giving kudos, and commenting. They're what keep me writing! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. Oh man, oh man.

They didn't want to overwhelm Lance, so they decided that just Pidge and Shiro would go in first. Once Pidge was sure everything was working right and they talked to Lance a little, the others would come in. They had agreed, as a team, to try and be as supportive as possible. They would listen to everything Lance had to say and ask him what he needed, ask him what they could do to help him. They would be honest--tell him all about how much he meant to them and say all the things they'd been too scared or proud or absentminded to tell him before. They would bond and work together and everything would turn out fine. And whatever was wrong, whatever made Lance twist into _this_ , they would fix it. 

Yeah, right.

Nobody believed that talking would _actually_ make everything okay again, but it was a start. And it was better than nothing. _Small changes grow into big changes._ That was what Shiro had kept repeating throughout the discussion on what to do about Lance, trying to keep everyone motivated and lift their spirits. It had really stuck with Keith, but not in the way Shiro intended. 

Small things. A million tiny, little things that didn't really matter by themselves, but when they piled on, when they kept coming and coming and coming--then they grew into something else. Something significant.

Keith couldn't help but wonder about all of the small things that must have piled on and on and on to leave Lance breaking under the weight of it all. He wondered how many of the things that weighed Lance down were because of _Keith_. He wondered how long the little changes in Lance had been going on without any of them noticing. He wondered why such a drastic change had to happen for anyone to even look. 

Shockingly enough, it didn't lift his spirits. 

He was lost in these thoughts the whole way to Lance's room. The others were quiet, too, and he could feel the anxious tension following them through the castle. They were almost there when they turned a corner and found Coran, who straightened immediately and wiped quickly at his eyes. 

"Oh, hello, paladins! I was just, uh..." he trailed off, sniffing and trying to maintain a forced smile. Less than a second passed before Allura stepped forward and pulled Coran to the side. She said a few hushed words, and then Coran was nodding and crying again. Allura guided him back down the hallway, one hand rubbing circles into his back and the other waving at the paladins to go on without her. The four of them exchanged concerned glances before continuing. 

Coran's wrecked voice carried toward them, making Keith glance back, curious and worried, to try and focus on what Coran was saying. He managed to make out some bits and pieces-- _same thi...appened with m...on and I can't_ \--but then Coran and Allura were too far away to hear and they were only a few feet from Lance's door. 

Pidge took a breath, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and looked to Shiro. He nodded at her and turned to give the other two a small smile. Pidge and Shiro walked forward and the door whooshed open and Keith expected them to disappear inside, but they didn't move. They were completely still, staring into the room with wide eyes and slack jaws, and Keith felt his confusion morph into something frantic and wild and terrified and the hallway was moving--no, _he_ was moving. He was walking forward and then he was peering into the room and every single thing in the universe came screeching to a halt.

\---

The muzzle was cool against his temple. 

He was standing there, holding the rifle awkwardly against his head and praying for the courage to pull the trigger before Coran came back. He's pulled it a million times. He was familiar with the firm press of it against his finger, familiar with the weight of the rifle in his hands and the rush of adrenaline that came right before he squeezed. He's done it a million times. This would be no different. Except it would be, because this was the shot that really mattered. This shot would take it all away--the creature in his throat and the swirling, aching void in his chest and the exhaustion that ate at every inch of him. Didn't he want this? Didn't he want to stop being a burden on the team, to stop feeling like nothing would ever be okay again, to stop waking up and feeling disappointed that he had? Didn't he just want it all to _stop_?

But what about the team? Sure, they didn't need him and he dragged them down, but maybe... maybe they'd miss him, at least? Hunk was his best friend, surely _he_... but no. They'd all be better off without him, and eventually they'd get over it. They'd move on and find a blue paladin who was actually useful, and the thought made Lance feel comfort and despair at the same time. He was shaking and sobbing and feeling too much all at once, and he almost lowered the rifle. Almost. But then his door opened.

His brain froze up, panic clawing up his throat and ice cracking through his veins. Pidge and Shiro were staring at him, and then Keith appeared, eyes locking with Lance's for a split second, and _Lance would never get another chance after this._ They see him standing there with a gun to his head and tears on his face and _it was now or never_ and he was so sorry but this was the only way and he was so tired of _drowning all the time_ and he had no choice and he was so _sorry._ He pulled the trigger. 

He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. It took a second for Lance to register that he wasn't dead, and another to realize that _oh my god. The safety was on_.

It was so ridiculous. It was absolutely fucking _ridiculous_ and _stupid_ and he wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying and he briefly wondered what he sounded like. When the rifle clattered to the ground, strong arms appeared around him and led him to his bed. Everything was blurry and he still couldn't stop shaking and he didn't know what the others were doing but now he was sure that he was laughing. Someone was touching him, holding his head still, and something small was being put into each of his ears, and then he didn't have to wonder what he sounded like anymore because he could hear it. 

He sounded like a lunatic. 

A tiny piece of him that was still sane knew he should be feeling grateful, relieved, happy, _something_  because he could hear again. Someone was saying his name, asking if he could hear them, asking him to please say something, _anything_ , and when Lance finally stopped laughing he only managed to say one thing before the ache in his chest swallowed him up again.

"Man, I am such a fuck up, I couldn't even kill myself right." 


	10. Chapter 10

Hunk could remember the nights at the garrison when Lance would get quiet. Most of the time it was hijinks and bragging and mischievous grins, but every now and then something would snap in Lance. It wasn't often, and it never lasted longer than a day or so, but it happened. He would retreat into himself, and Hunk would give him space. Eventually Lance would crack a joke and everything would go back to normal. Laughter and truth or dare and silly conversations to fill the silence after lights out. Lance always bounced back.

Hunk had never been this heartbroken in his entire life. It was like a black hole had opened up in his chest. He felt absolutely sick, and there was really no other word for it beside heartbreak. Everything was repeating, playing over and over again in his head. Peering into the room. Seeing his best friend with a gun to his head. A hollow click. Something like laughter, but not quite. The shuffle of feet and the clatter of the rifle on the floor and a black hole opening up in his chest.

Shiro had been the one to guide Lance to the bed. He was kneeling in front of him now, speaking softly, asking Lance to say something. Anything. _Anything, Lance, come on, just talk to me, I'm right here, please tell me why you're doing this, Lance, we can help you, just talk to me_ , but Lance didn't respond and Hunk felt like he was falling apart because it was never supposed to get this bad. Lance always bounced back. 

Until now. 

\---

Keith was pacing furiously, eyes dark and hands itching for something he couldn't name. 

_Small changes..._

This wasn't Lance. Lance was competition between teammates. A persistent knock at the door after a lifetime of shutting people out. He was a smirk and a cheesy pick up line and a victory yell after a hard won battle. He was all of that and more, but when was the last time Lance made a joke? Or challenged Keith to a pointless contest in the name of their rivalry? Or called him "Mullet" or made fun of his obsession with knives or shot a snarky comment his way? When was the last time Lance had been himself? 

_Small changes grow into big changes._

Keith forced himself to stop pacing and turned his attention to the others. Pidge was in the hallway mumbling into her headset, still briefing Allura on what happened. She was pale and shaky, but Keith couldn't blame her. They probably all were. Hunk definitely was, and his expression was so full of despair Keith had to look away before he got lost in it. Shiro wasn't getting anywhere with his gentle encouragers, and the blank stare that made Keith's heart clench uncomfortably in his chest was back on Lance's face. Lance just sat and stared, unblinking, fixated on one spot.

Keith felt his body tense when he realized what Lance was staring at. The rifle. It was still lying in the same spot where it had fallen. No one had moved it, the thought of the thing that could have ripped a hole through Lance's head too horrifying to touch. 

Everything was wrong. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. Lance wasn't supposed to be sad or hurt himself on purpose or try to fucking _kill himself_. Everything inside of Keith was ricocheting again and images were flashing through his head and he couldn't think straight. Hunk gasping. Lance laughing. Pidge's hands shaking. The rifle clattering against the floor. Shiro speaking softly. A trigger finger tensing. Everything was jumbled and nothing made sense, but wasn't that right? Wasn't that the truth? Nothing made sense and everything was wrong and Lance had tried to kill himself. 

Keith snatched the rifle off the floor and Lance flinched, inhaled, seemed to come back to reality. They locked eyes and for the first time since this whole mess started Lance didn't look away. Keith was sure that this was a critical moment, that what he said here mattered, but he had never been good with words. His mind was racing, desperately searching for the right thing to say, grasping at wisps of thought and wishing for something that would make it okay again, but _what was he supposed to say? Lance, you're worth a hundred of me? Lance, you mean more to me than anything else in the universe? Lance, I love you?_

Just because something is true doesn't mean it's the right thing to say.

Three steps forward and he was shoving the rifle at Shiro and pulling Lance up by his collar. They still hadn't broken eye contact, and Keith could feel everything that he'd been trying to push down rise to the surface. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Silence. "Fucking _answer me_ , Lance!"

\---

Lance jolted back to himself when Keith picked up the rifle. There was a moment when Lance saw something he couldn't name flickering in Keith's eyes, but then it was gone and those eyes were only inches away from his own. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" 

Keith was furious. Lance knew he deserved it, but _god_. He got it, okay? He knew he was a screw up, he knew he was useless, he knew he knew _he knew_ , so why did Keith have to do this? Everything was already so _hard_ , so _unfair_ , and Lance felt anger crack through the emptiness in his chest. 

"Fucking _answer me_ , Lance!"

The crack in his chest splintered and gave way. He wrenched out of Keith's grasp and shoved him away. Keith stumbled backward into Hunk, eyes widening in surprise. Shiro stood up, looking like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by Lance. 

"Why the _fuck_ do you care, Keith? Why does it even _fucking matter_ what I do? You don't need me, none of you do, and Voltron would be better off with a different blue paladin, anyway!" 

Keith rounded on Lance again, throwing his hands up in frustration. "What the hell are you talking about? We _do_ need you! And why the _fuck_ wouldn't I care?"

Lance scoffed and shook his head bitterly. His voice was hoarse, but whether it was from lack of use or from crying he didn't know. "Don't lie to me, Keith. We all know what a worthless piece of shit I am, okay? We all know I'm the weak link here. And you don't have to pretend to care about me to make yourself feel better. So don't act like I matter to you when we all know that I fucking _don't_."

Keith scowled and stalked toward Lance, jabbing a finger into his chest to emphasize his words. "First of all, Blue _chose_ you, just like the other lions chose each of us. You were _chosen_ to be a part of this team for a _reason_ , and _you know that!_ Second of all, don't lecture _me_  on how I feel about _you_. You don't--You're--ugh!" He ran his hands through his hair before grabbing Lance by the shoulders and holding his gaze. 

Lance faltered. There was something painful, something unmistakably sad hiding behind Keith's anger, and he suddenly felt that Keith could see straight through him. The fight visibly drained out of Keith all at once, and Lance felt his own anger fall away in return. There was a pause, and then Keith sighed. 

"Lance. You're our friend. You're _my_ friend. I care about you. I just--I just want to help." 

Hunk stepped forward. "We all do, Lance." The others nodded.

Lance took a slow breath, and his eyes flickered around the room before coming back to rest on Keith's. Months of hiding. Months of fake smiles and long sleeves and convincing himself that the others would be happier with him gone, and now they knew how messed up he was inside. They knew, and still they wanted to help. And that was great. That was awesome. It was freaking _fantastic_ , but... 

"I don't think you _can_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some time to write this week because it's spring break! Yay! 
> 
> As for what Keith thinks... I did not set out to make this a klance fic... and yet..... here we are. Still, if you guys don't like klance you can always read it as brotp/platonic love, because friendships can be just as meaningful and loving as romantic relationships imo :) hope you guys like the chapter <3 and as always thank you for keeping me motivated!


	11. Chapter 11

They were trying.

Lance rarely found himself alone during the day. Someone was always checking up on him or asking him to sit with them or needing his ‘help’ with something. Most of the time he appreciated it. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to be alone with his thoughts, knew he needed them to keep him occupied, but sometimes he craved time to himself. It wasn’t that they were pushing him too hard or anything. It was just… if there was no one around, then there were no expectations to meet.

He was different now. He knew that. He was sad and subdued and constantly fighting through his own self-hate, and he was _sorry_. He could tell that they just wanted him to be better, to be the old Lance again, though they would never say that. It was little stuff. Comments. Questions about how he was feeling that day. A worried glance when they thought he wasn’t looking, or a jaw tightening when he stayed quiet throughout a whole conversation, or a sigh when they expected him to crack a joke and he didn’t. They were all trying so hard to be supportive and patient, but he could tell. As always, he was a disappointment.

There were some okay days, and then there were some really bad days. The panic attacks came and went, as usual, but now it was much harder to slip away unnoticed. He’d try to find a place where he could be alone, try to ride it out by himself, but someone would always find him. The whole thing was… complicated. It was nice that they followed him to make sure he was okay, nice to have someone to keep him grounded. It was nice, but sometimes he resented it. He couldn’t scratch, couldn’t punch, couldn’t turn to the things he’d gotten so used to doing when he felt the hole in his chest expand and threaten to swallow him completely. At times, it was frustrating to realize that he couldn’t do any of that anymore, because they’d be right there to stop him. Other times, it was embarrassing. He’d be gasping for breath, tears pricking at his eyes and wanting nothing more than to hurt himself until it didn’t hurt anymore, and they’d be there. Sitting with him awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

He could tell it freaked some of them out, and he ended up seeking out Coran more often than not when he felt the panic creeping up his throat. He couldn’t explain it, exactly, but Coran was… the easiest presence. He would sit with Lance quietly, wait for it to pass, and then he would talk until Lance calmed down enough to respond. Once, Lance asked Coran about the healing pods and his ears. Coran had rested a hand on his shoulder and explained in a small voice that the healing pods only sped up the body’s natural healing process. They didn’t fix what the body couldn’t fix on its own, which meant they couldn’t fix irreversible damage. Much like the loss of Shiro’s arm, the loss of his hearing was permanent.

That day had been a pretty bad day.

Lance still had trouble eating, but at least now he was trying. He spent a lot of time watching Hunk prepare meals for everybody. It was actually really cool to watch Hunk take a bunch of crazy-looking ingredients and turn them into an awesome dish, but Lance also felt guilty about it. Hunk put so much time and effort into the food, and Lance was almost never able to eat more than a few bites. He could tell they were worried about it, and he tried to eat as much as he could for them, but he just wasn’t hungry.

Nights were really, really hard. With no one to distract him, his mind wandered. Pidge had spent a lot of time teaching him about his hearing aids—how to adjust the volume and how to take care of them and things like that—and he was supposed to take them out at night, but that made sleeping difficult. It was suffocating to sit there in the silence. It was hard to explain, but it was like the silence itself was too loud.

Everything was too quiet, too still, too dark. His hands would itch for something sharp or his eyes would linger too long on his belt, and he wondered when exactly it had gone from a way to deal with panic attacks to something he craved on its own. Some days there would be new scars, new bruises, new secrets to cover up in the morning. Other times he would find himself wandering the castle in search of someone else who might be awake.

One night, when the heaviness in his chest threatened to choke him, he found Keith.

He was in the bridge, the universal starmap projecting around the room. It really was beautiful to look at. A memory flashed briefly in Lance’s mind— _You ever notice how far the planets are from each other, Coran?_ —and then he realized he was staring. Keith was sitting against the wall, fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket and gaze lost in the holographic universe around him. He hadn’t noticed Lance yet, and Lance chewed at his lip, debating whether he should speak up or not.

“Hey.”

Keith startled, looking over at Lance with wide eyes. “Hey, Lance.” He leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair. “Are you, uh… are you okay?”

Lance shrugged, crossing over to Keith and sitting next to him. What was he gonna say? _I'm sad and I really want to hurt myself right now, but I know that I’m supposed to try and get better and I don't want to disappoint anyone and I know it’ll just make everything worse if I do so I’m trying to distract myself?_ No.

Keith cleared his throat. "Do you... Do you want to talk about it?"

Lance only met Keith's eyes for a few seconds before he had to look away. Keith's gaze held something raw in it, something intense, and it made him feel exposed. He shrugged again, looking around the room at the holographic stars and trying to ignore the feeling of Keith's eyes on him. A few seconds passed, and he saw Keith nod and turn away in the corner of his eye.

Lance felt himself relax. The silence wasn't heavy or awkward, and he briefly wondered why he had expected it to be. He was grateful that Keith was content to just sit with him. It was nice not to feel some sort of obligation to do or say anything. The ever-present sense that he was disappointing the others just by existing was missing, and after a while he found that he could pretend that everything was fine. That _he_ was fine.

Keith had leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing one ankle over the other. Sitting in the silence with Keith, watching the starmap rotate lazily around the room, Lance let his mind wander. He thought of Earth, of Varadero Beach and garlic knots and his mother's hugs. The Garrison. His little sister. He thought of his team, of Blue, of the impossibility of everything they were fighting against. The impossibility of being in a war against an army of aliens and a war against himself at the same time. He wondered if it was possible to win either.

Before long, his thoughts started to jumble together. He wondered if his brothers would think Blue was cool. If the commanders at the Garrison would freak out knowing he was partially responsible for defending the universe. If Keith liked the ocean, or garlic knots, or warm hugs that shut out the darkness.

Lance didn't know when exactly the tight feeling in his chest subsided, but he found that he could finally take out his hearing aids without feeling like he was going to suffocate. Keith was a steady warmth beside him, and Lance fell asleep feeling light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My gosh. I've been so freaking busy. I'm so sorry for taking so long for this chapter! Hope you guys like it.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! Comments keep me writing :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance starts doing... okay. But what's up with Keith?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts with Keith's POV, then switches back and forth.
> 
> Please let me know if you find any typos!

This was happening. _Don't panic.,_  
  
Keith must have dozed off, because he was sure that they hadn't been in this position earlier. Lance's head rested on Keith's shoulder, and his right arm was looped loosely around Keith's left. He didn't think about how warm Lance was, how soft Lance's hair was against his cheek. He could feel the rise and fall of Lance’s chest against his side, could hear the sound of Lance’s slow breaths against the quiet of the bridge. The starmap was still projecting, casting a soft glow around the room.  
  
He was trying to figure out exactly when they’d fallen asleep like this when Lance stirred and lifted his head. Sleepy blue eyes stared at Keith, and for a split second he wondered if blue had always been such a pretty color. Because it was. It was beautiful. He wondered if something as simple as a color could possibly have caused the tangle of feelings wrestling around in his chest. If it was possible for a color to be so mesmerizing you could get _lost in it,_ have it crash over you and drag you down and somehow make you happy that you were drowning in it, but then Lance jerked away.  
  
"I-I'm sorry—I didn't—um, my bad."  
  
Keith was frozen, unsure of how to respond while Lance scrubbed at his eyes. He watched Lance grab his hearing aids and put them in.  
  
"Thanks for, uh, sitting with me.” Lance took a breath, looking anywhere but Keith. “I’m gonna head to bed."  
  
Keith nodded, feeling stupid. He should say something. Lance was pushing himself to his feet, and he should open his mouth and say _something,_ something like _it’s okay_ or _don’t go._ Lance started heading for the door. Keith’s side felt cold.  
  
"Lance!"  
  
Lance turned, pausing in the doorway, and Keith scrambled to his feet. He stopped a few feet away and cleared his throat.  
  
“If you wanted to--I mean if you ever need someone to… sit with you, y’know, or whatever.” Keith’s eyes flitted to blue and stayed there. “I’ll be around.”  
  
Lance’s eyes widened slightly before softening. “Yeah.” He smiled. “Thanks. See you tomorrow?”  
  
Keith swallowed. “See you tomorrow.”  
  
_Yeah. You could get lost in it._  
  
\---  
  
Lance had been polishing Blue for the better part of an hour, settling into the repetitive motions and enjoying her company. He could feel her in his mind, a comforting presence and the occasional flash of emotion. She was worried about him, he knew. She had been for some time, but the worry seemed less intense now than it had been the last time he visited her. He hadn’t been coming to see her as much as he probably should, but she just seemed to be happy that he was having a relatively good week so far. He was eating better, sleeping better. Feeling better.  
  
It had been almost a month since that night on the bridge with Keith. They’d been… hanging out more. On the bridge at first, but soon enough they decided it would be more comfortable to hang out in Keith’s room.  
  
_Yeah. More comfortable._  
  
The others had noticed that they were spending a lot of time together, and they seemed to back off a little. Lance found that he could actually be alone for more than a few minutes without someone actively seeking him out. He wasn’t sure if the others thought he was getting better or if they were just tired of having to check in on him all the time because _he wasn’t worth the_ \--no, don’t do that. He was having a good week. He was making an effort.  
  
Lance let his mind wander elsewhere, eventually focusing back in on Blue. He wondered exactly how much she could sense through their connection. Was it the same for her as it was for him? Just a steady presence with the occasional vague feelings and abstract thoughts brushing against her? Or was she so proficient in communicating this way that it was more concrete and intense? Lance couldn’t even imagine how advanced she was in connecting with her paladins. Could she feel it when he laughed? Or missed home? When he was confused, or when there were butterflies in his stomach, or when he felt as if his lungs were collapsing inside of him? Could she sense all of that, feel it as if it were happening to her? If she could, then _what had she felt when he almost_ \--  
  
He felt a flash of something. Something like affection, something like reassurance. He stopped scrubbing and took a few deep breaths.  
  
“You always know what to say.” Lance let out a small laugh, patting the hard metal beneath him. “Thanks, beautiful. Don’t worry, I’m… okay.” He hopped off her paw and let his hand rest against it for a few moments before turning to leave.  
  
Lance was glad he’d been able to get some uninterrupted quality time with Blue, but it was almost time for dinner. If it was almost time for dinner, then it was almost time for dinner to be over. And if it was almost time for dinner to be over, then it was almost time for Lance and Keith to slip away to Keith’s room.  
  
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it.  
  
Lance headed for his room, looking for a quick shower to get rid of the strong smell of polish, and found Keith pacing in front of his door.  
  
“Keith?” Keith stilled, watching Lance approach like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. _Did Keith even like cookies? He’d have to investigate that later._ “Hey man, what’re you doing here?”  
  
Keith took a breath and shifted from one foot to the other. “Hey, Lance. I. I was, uh, coming to ask--or I guess just to tell you, um,” Keith stopped. Lance folded his arms, waiting, but Keith didn’t continue. He almost looked a little… lost. They held eye contact for a few moments and Lance raised his eyebrows.  
  
“...tell me what?”  
  
Keith startled a bit, looking down and fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket. “Right, sorry. I just was coming to tell you that I, uh, I really… I mean, I hope you know…” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. There were a few more seconds of silence and then Keith shook his head, glancing up at Lance before quickly looking away again and huffing out a frustrated breath.  
  
“Nevermind. It’s nothing. I have to go.”  
  
Keith ducked his head, pushing past Lance and disappearing around the corner. Lance frowned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Did something happen? Did he do something wrong? Was Keith… mad at him? What if-no. No, no, no, he was not going to do this. He was going to shower and go to dinner and _not_ let this get to him.  
He had been doing so well, and he was going to do whatever it took to keep it that way. He was making an effort, damn it.  
  
\---  
  
Keith was an idiot. He was a complete fucking _idiot,_ and that’s all there was to it. How did he think it was going to go? Did he think that he could tell Lance just how much he lov--how much he worried? How much time he spent thinking about Lance and wondering how he was doing and trying to find the courage to actually say what was always on his mind? That he cared? That he was constantly terrified that Lance was going to do something? And even if he could have actually told Lance all of that instead of sputtering like a moron, what then? Was Lance just going to smile and hug him and tell him not to worry? That everything was suddenly, magically okay now that they had been spending more time together? That he’d never do anything reckless and hurtful again? That he’d never leave him, that he wasn’t like everyone else in Keith’s life--  
  
As soon as he made it back to his room Keith groaned and flopped down on his bed, throwing his arm over his eyes. He felt like he was being over dramatic and stupid but, well. That’s just because he _was_ being over dramatic and stupid. He was frustrated. With himself, with Lance, with the whole situation. Yeah, things had been better the past couple of weeks, but that didn’t mean… Lance still wasn’t _back._ He was still distant and different and… sad. Yeah, okay, Lance was trying--Keith could tell he was--but there was still that look in his eyes. And did Lance think that Keith didn’t notice the bad days? When Lance almost shrunk into himself around the others or when his sleeves rode up and revealed secrets that Lance had been so good at hiding _before_ \--  
  
Keith hadn’t been able to breach any… sensitive subjects. Every time he tried to speak up about anything remotely serious the words died in his throat. He never asked anything more serious than if Lance was doing okay--and Lance always just shrugged. He never elaborated, and Keith just couldn’t find it in him to push.  
  
He had thought he could finally do it today--he’d been trying to hype himself up all morning--but that just ended in him storming off like the _over dramatic idiot_ that he was.  
  
After a while he sat up and tried his best to push the anger down. It was about time to go to dinner. God, he hoped it wasn’t going to be awkward.  
  
\---  
  
Dinner was awkward.  
  
Lance had tried not to let the weird encounter with Keith get to him, but now he couldn’t seem to silence his anxious thoughts. Lance tried over and over to catch Keith’s eye at the table, but Keith was apparently fascinated by his plate and did little else beside push his food around on it. The others noticed the tension, too, and conversation was halting at best. After a while, the only sounds were those of chewing and clearing throats.  
  
This was so… frustrating. What did he do? How was he such a fuck up that he couldn’t even think of what he’d done wrong? Lance sighed, pushing away from the table without a word and leaving, his food untouched. No one stopped him.  
  
He walked to his room with his head bowed, forehead creasing and heart hammering frantically. Lance blew out a breath and tried to calm himself. He wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t going to let this take him into a spiral after so many good days in a row. He wasn’t so _pathetic_ that he couldn’t handle… whatever this was. Maybe he’d made Keith upset somehow, but that didn’t mean he was going to freak out, right? Okay, well, he could have possibly pissed off the one person that seemed to keep him grounded lately, but… _that was no reason to be breathing this fast._  
  
_But what if Keith hated him now? What if he was tired of Lance hanging around him so much? What if, what if, what if--_  
  
Well, it _had_ been a good week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody.
> 
> I've been... struggling. With life and motivation and kind of... everything. I'm unbelievably sorry to everyone who has been wanting an update. I've been hating everything I write so much. I know it's been like... a year, but I finally figured a shitty update is better than no update at all. Endless apologies, you guys. I don't know what's wrong with me. And I'm so sorry because I don't know when another update will come. 
> 
> What got me motivated again was re-reading all of the wonderful comments that y'all have blessed me with. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope y'all enjoy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is going on with Keith? Shiro to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith's POV for this chapter

Silence. Heavy and oppressive. Lance had left suddenly after not eating or saying a word at dinner, and now everyone was staring at Keith like he had all the fucking answers. 

“Keith, what’s going on?” 

Keith’s eyes darted to Hunk, who was looking at him with a hard expression. He swallowed, taking a breath and trying to keep his irritation down. 

“Nothing is… I mean I…” 

“Did something happen?” Hunk’s voice rose with agitation. “I thought you two were getting along?” 

“Nothing happened, Hunk, I just—I mean, I guess it’s because I tried to—We _are_ getting along I just—” Jeez, why couldn’t he _talk_ today? 

“Just _what_ , Keith? Something’s obviously up with you two—he was staring at you the whole time and you were flat out ignoring him!” 

The others were frozen, glancing between the two of them with wide eyes. Keith couldn’t remember Hunk ever yelling at him like this, and it took him a few seconds to recover. The anger he had been trying to contain bubbled up in full force, hot and overwhelming and desperate, and he felt his face screw up into a scowl. 

“Hunk, I don’t know what your problem is, but—" 

Hunk slammed a hand on the table and stood up. Keith saw Pidge flinch back in surprise in the corner of his eye. 

“My problem? My _problem?_ Look, Keith, we all know that you guys have been spending like every day together or whatever, and he’s been doing better so that’s awesome, okay, that’s great, but now all of a sudden you’re ignoring him? And he doesn’t eat dinner for the first time in a week? What’s _your_ problem, Keith?!” 

Pidge leaned forward hesitantly, trying to catch Hunk’s eye. “Dude, calm down. There’s no need to—” 

“No, Pidge!” Hunk turned on her, chest heaving and eyes tearing up. “Lance is struggling, and we can’t let anything—we can’t let him—” 

“That’s enough.” Everyone turned to Shiro as he stood up. “Keith, come with me.” He put his plate away and waited expectantly at the door for Keith to do the same. Keith blew out a frustrated breath and followed him, keeping his eyes down but glancing quickly back at the others on his way out. Allura and Coran were sharing a bewildered look. Hunk looked deflated, his head in his hands, and Pidge stood nearby whispering to him softly. Keith felt a twinge of guilt as the door slid shut behind him. 

He tried to prepare himself for the lecture he was sure to get. After a deep breath, he looked up to see Shiro standing in the hallway with a worried expression. __

“Keith. Are you okay?” 

_Wait, what_ ? 

Keith didn’t respond and Shiro sighed, reaching out a hand to rest on Keith’s shoulder. “You seem… upset today. I just wanted to see if you—if there was anything you wanted to talk about.” 

Keith felt something break in his chest. Shiro was… asking him if he was okay? He swallowed, blinking rapidly and tearing his eyes away from Shiro’s gaze. There was something constricting his throat, trapping his words before he could even think of what he might say. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He didn’t know why he was so angry today, or why he couldn’t just say what he was thinking instead of shutting down or saying the exact fucking opposite of what he meant. Why was he so bad at this? Why couldn’t he just _talk_ like a normal fucking person? 

Keith shrugged, wondering if this was how Lance ever felt when Keith asked him if _he_ was okay. 

Shiro didn’t seem bothered by Keith’s silence. He smiled softly and squeezed Keith’s shoulder. Shiro searched Keith’s face for a moment. 

“Keith. You know, Lance _is_ struggling. And we _should_ try our best to help him in any way that we can. But… that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take care of ourselves, too.” 

_Huh?_ Keith blinked, not quite understanding. 

“What… What do you mean?” 

Shiro took a few seconds to think. “I mean… you’ve been spending a lot of time with Lance. I know you’re really trying to be there for him, and I think you’ve been doing an awesome job, but… Well, you don’t have to be there for him at the expense of yourself.” 

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Shiro, I—I’m not—” 

“Keith.” There was that hand squeezing his shoulder again. “I know how much you worry about him. I know how hard it is for you to see him on his… bad days. I’ve seen you encouraging him to eat, staying up with him when he can’t sleep, trying to help any way you can when he has a panic attack—" 

Keith’s eyes widened. Shiro had noticed that? He hadn’t thought… 

“—and I know that you’re the kind of person who keeps going until he can’t anymore. Helping Lance is important, but with all the stress… it can really take a toll on someone. Physically _and_ emotionally. And I think we saw the effects of that today.” 

“Oh.” Keith looked away, feeling his face heat up. “I guess I never thought of it that way.” 

Shiro stepped back and crossed his arms, keeping his expression gentle. “Taking time for yourself doesn’t make you a bad friend, Keith. And remember, you’re not alone. We’re _all_ here for Lance. And for you.” 

Keith ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “I really screwed up, though, didn’t I? Lance seemed really upset when he left, and Hunk...” 

Shiro frowned, looking down. “Lance has been looking to you for comfort more than he’s been looking to any of the rest of us in the last few weeks. Even more than me, or Coran… or Hunk. I think Hunk just might be frustrated—and maybe even a little hurt—that Lance hasn’t been coming to him like he’s been coming to you.” 

Keith blinked again. Oh. _Oh_. That was... He hadn’t even thought about how that might be affecting Hunk. 

“I guess I should… talk to Hunk later. When everything calms down. But, Lance…” 

“I think maybe…” Shiro started. “Maybe you should let me talk to Lance this time. You need to have some time to yourself for a little bit, I think. I know you usually train to blow off steam, and you haven’t been to the training deck since…” 

Keith spoke up, not wanted Shiro to finish that sentence. “Okay. Yeah, I can… yeah. I—I’m sorry I’ve been…” 

Shiro shook his head, offering another soft smile. “You’re fine, Keith. Just remember that we’re all in this together. If you need a break, just ask.” 

Keith returned Shiro’s smile, feeling sheepish. Shiro was always so good at this stuff. He always… knew what Keith needed, always knew what to say. Keith was searching for the right words to express how much he appreciated—how grateful he was for—but then Shiro was off to find Lance. 

Keith sighed, deciding to head to his room for a bit. He needed to think. Think about how he was going to apologize to Lance and what he was going to say to Hunk and how he was going to stop being there for Lance _at the expense of himself_ , as Shiro had put it. 

Lately he’d felt like there was this itch, this crawling under his skin that he could never get to _stop_. Something was always burning in his chest, lately, leaving him clenching his fists and blinking back tears and he didn’t _understand_. 

When he was with Lance it was more intense, but it was different. More like a… fluttering in his chest than a burning. Something like fear, something like pain, but not quite. It just kept growing, swallowing him up and leaving him feeling angry and scared. He was never good at understanding his _feelings_ , never good at putting a name to what he wanted or what he needed. And he _certainly_ wasn’t good at talking about all of that _out loud_. But, what Shiro had said… it made a lot of sense. He was always worrying, worrying, worrying—was he doing enough? Was it ever going to be like it was? Did Lance understand just how much Keith _needed_ —how much he _meant_ —Keith was always wondering if or when Lance was going to _snap again_ — 

Keith huffed and flopped down on his bed once he made it back to his room. He just needed to think. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate every single one of the readers who leave kudos and comments and enjoy my writing, but this chapter is dedicated specifically to Kirlya_Tzara. I hope you all enjoyed it!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance freaks out a little bit. (It's okay, Shiro, I promise.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance POV then Shiro POV

For the millionth time since dinner, Lance thought about how _stupid_ this was. Keith ignoring him shouldn’t have been that big a deal. Would he be feeling like this if it had been Allura? Or Shiro? Or _anyone else but Keith?_ No. He’d be a little put out, sure. Maybe even a little hurt. But he would _not_ be feeling like… this. 

Lance’s heart was hammering wildly, mind racing and lungs stuttering. This wasn’t a new feeling, but he’d been so _good_ , gone so many days without having to deal with this, and it was almost worse, almost _harder_ to deal with now that he’d had that reprieve. Panic rose in his throat, raw and frantic. 

He was crouched in the corner of his room, back against the wall behind him and head in his hands. Maybe if he made himself small enough he’d just disappear. _Stupid_. Lance tried not to let his thoughts spiral— _no, no, good week, making an effort, don’t do this, stop being pathetic—_ but that _goddamn_ creature in his chest was suffocating him like it always did, and once it started it wouldn’t _stop_. 

_Keith hated him. He was tired of dealing with Lance and his stupid problems, tired of Lance bothering him every fucking night and—God, Lance should have known better. He was a burden on everyone around him, an annoying inconvenience, a worthless, good for nothing piece of—please stop, stop, just breathe, too dizzy, too dizzy._

Lance wished more than anything that he could just be _home_. God, he missed his family. He missed sneaking to the kitchen in the middle of the night to make café con leche and tostadas with Verónica. He missed cheering for Luis at his baseball games, missed dancing like an idiot with Abuelita while his mother laughed freely in the background at their silliness. _Too dizzy, breathe._ Would he ever see them again? Would they even _want_ to see him again? __

Lance squeezed his eyes shut. He was practically gasping now, trying to stop his hands from shaking and failing miserably, and this was so stupid, stupid, _stupid_. _No wonder everyone was tired of him, he couldn’t even breathe right. He was too stupid to breathe, too stupid to handle a little homesickness, too stupid to check that the fucking safety was off—_

He rocked back and forth a little, and he was painfully aware of the fact that he probably looked crazy right now. _Maybe he was._ He tried counting his breaths, tried focusing on something else, anything else, but it just wasn’t working, nothing was _working_ , and the sound of his uneven breathing was grating harshly against his nerves. For the first time since losing his hearing Lance found himself wantingthe quiet that kept him up at night. 

He took his hearing aids out with fumbling hands and let out another shuddering breath, silence covering him like a blanket. Lance had never thought this could make him feel so relieved, but for once the silence was comforting rather than smothering. _Just breathe_. Numbness seeped in, and even though he was still shaking badly he felt almost detached from it. His heartbeat gradually slowed, something he noted without really feeling it, and his eyes burned with a sudden wave of fatigue. Lance pushed himself up after a few minutes, grabbing his hearing aids and setting them down on the floor by his bed. He was only vaguely aware of the slight tremors running through him as he kicked his shoes off and got under the covers. His body relaxed as his eyes fluttered shut. 

Thoughts drifted around in his head aimlessly. It was hard to focus _._ Everything was muddled and confusing. Lance couldn’t understand why he was so affected by this. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense for him to be fine, for him to be feeling almost _normal_ , and then suddenly reduced to a pitiful whimpering mess for no good reason. He took a deep breath—the first since coming to his room where he’d felt like he’d actually _taken_ a breath afterward—and burrowed his head into the pillow. With his eyes shut and hearing aids out, he almost felt like he was floating. Separate from his body, from these feelings, from the whole goddamn world. 

He was just so tired. He’d almost forgotten how drained the attacks left him, and he could feel sleep tugging at him impatiently. His mind continued to wander lazily, and Lance realized that this was the first time in a long time that he’d had a panic attack and _hadn’t_ tried to hurt himself during it. _Huh_. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Proud of himself? Bitter? Disappointed? Lance pushed those thoughts away and let his mind drift elsewhere. He’d just have to figure all this out later. He was too tired now. 

The sheets were soft against his fingers. He felt heavy, even as he floated, and when sleep finally dragged him under his last thought was of Verónica’s hair shining in the moonlight. 

\--- 

Shiro hoped he hadn’t wasted too much time. He’d checked potential hiding places on the way to Lance’s room, but there’d been no sign of him so far. He knew Lance sometimes tried to find places where he thought nobody would find him when he wanted to be alone, but Shiro really hated when he didn’t know where Lance was, especially when he knew Lance was upset. He’d been trying to ease off lately, but… A memory flashed quickly in his mind— _why was he so limp, there was too much blood, wake up Lance please wake up_ —and Shiro blinked it away. Lance was okay now. He was okay. 

Shiro knocked softly on Lance’s door, telling himself that the answering silence was just silence. It didn’t mean anything, and there was no need to worry. They’d taken away Lance’s bayard until further notice and made sure to clear any potentially dangerous objects from his room since... but still. 

“Lance?” No response. _Everything was okay._ “Lance, are you alright?” 

He waited a few moments before speaking up again. “Lance, I think we should talk.” Still nothing. Shiro shook his head at a spike of worry. _Lance was probably fine. There was nothing to worry about…_

Shiro swiped a hand over his face before going in. 

“Hey, I’m sorry to barge in, but—” 

Shiro stopped, only realizing how tense he had been when he suddenly relaxed. Lance was just sleeping, legs tangled in his blanket and hair sticking up in odd angles. Shiro released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He watched Lance breathe for a few moments before turning to leave. He’d talk to Lance tomorrow. The kid always needed more rest, that was for damn sure. 

In the meantime, there was something he needed to do. And it wasn't going to be fun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got COMPS coming up, which basically is the exam determining whether the last 6 years of my life were wasted or not, so I'll not be able to post again for a long while. Sorry for the delay and the short chapter. Still, I hope you all enjoyed it! Please let me know if you see any typos. My brain is mush these days.


End file.
